


Take Ten

by infiniteviking



Category: Tron (1982), Tron - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2014-03-13
Packaged: 2018-01-15 14:06:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1307566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infiniteviking/pseuds/infiniteviking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tron, Ram, and Flynn rest up in the canyons before continuing toward the I/O tower. Because fluff, basically.~</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Ten

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Fluff Week in Tron Fanworks Month. Can be read as a sequel to [Spirit of Inquiry](http://archiveofourown.org/works/537317).

"This is a good spot,” said Tron, beckoning his fellow fugitives into the wide blue cavern off the craggy trail they’d been following. “This place isn't regulated; we'll recharge by morning if we stay here."

"Finally.” Flynn groaned in relief, sliding down to sit on the blue ground with his back against a blue rock. It felt like forever since he, Tron, and Ram had left the enemy tanks behind at the start of the canyon maze, and they’d been wandering around ever since, looking for a vantage point. All Flynn knew was that he was tired, he was sore, that poor guy who’d heckled him back on the jai-alai rings was dead, and the MCP was going to pay for this.

“Think they’ll be able to track us?” Ram asked, looking skeptically back at the gaping mouth of the cave.

“Probably not.” Tron was prowling around the perimeter, disc in hand, checking the cracks for who knew what. “I would, but they don’t have my tracking functions. All they know how to do is go after the obvious anomalies, and their scans won’t reach this deep. If we stay off the beaten track, they’ll never find us.”

“Sounds like a plan,” yawned Ram. “Sure wish we could find a spring out here.” 

Flynn wasn’t sure whether that meant the kind of spring you drank from or the kind of spring that bounced. They could easily be the same thing in the computer world. He felt decidedly less than bouncy, with a pang every now and then that he would have classified as hunger except that it ran through his whole system instead of just his gut, and everything in him wanted to just lie down and sleep.

On the other side of the cave, Ram had made himself comfortable near the wall, sitting cross-legged and checking his disc for nicks. Tron had paused on his route around the floor, eyeing one of the darker corners suspiciously.

The two of them were looking a bit dim too, come to think of it.

“How are we supposed to, uh. Recharge?” Flynn asked, leaning casually against a jutting rock and trying not to sound too clueless. “I’ve never been this far out before.”

Tron didn’t react; both programs had gotten used to Flynn’s weird questions by now. Ram, always ready to help, looked up and smiled.

“Just rest. It’s slower than finding pure power, but the system takes care of you.”

“That simple, huh.”

“If nobody finds us,” said Ram, his smile turning wry. “What’s the verdict, Tron?”

“Safe as we’re going to be.” Belatedly, Flynn realized that Tron hadn’t just been leaning on the wall; he’d been _scanning_ it.

He also looked exhausted.

"You guys rest,” Flynn heard himself say. “I'll watch out for Recognizers."

Tron looked up, and now Flynn felt pretty sure _he_ was being scanned, if only for power levels. “Fine. Wake me if anything happens, got it?”

“Got it, man.”

There was plenty of room on the cave floor, and Tron stretched out his long legs with a blissful sigh. Ram chuckled, stretching out as well (albeit not nearly as far; the guy was really small) and settling down on his stomach with his head pillowed on one arm. Flynn could relate. He was a biker, sure, but anyone could get cramped up after a ride like they’d had, weird glowy computer world or no -- never even mind the hike that had come after.

He shifted, and his back twinged.

That floor sure looked good.

Grumbling to himself, Flynn hoisted himself up to the top of the rock, about four feet up. Falling asleep would mean falling off, so he’d just have to stay awake, wouldn’t he? And it’d probably just be a couple of hours. He could do that.

It was interesting at first, watching the tiny flares of power running along the edges of the rocks, keeping an eye out for any strange flicker or shadow, listening for any sound in the flat, dead silence. Once or twice he heard a distant rumbling noise. At first he wondered if programs snored, but slowly realized that it was probably a Recognizer gliding over the canyons. A disturbing thought, but the sound was infrequent and never got any closer, so he figured they could ignore it.

When a much stranger noise came from behind him, Flynn flinched and whipped around defensively. It was just Ram rolling over, though, his armor squeaking across the shiny canyon floor. The program blinked awake momentarily and gave Flynn an apologetic smile. Flynn nodded; no problem. Now that he knew what the sound was, he could tune it out when it happened again. Which it did, giving him a chance to wonder how a program could be a restless sleeper.

After the third time or so, Tron spoke. Even after such a short stretch of downtime, he sounded quiet but fully awake, as though there was no need for him to rest; though Flynn had learned better as they'd toiled through the canyons.

"Ram. Come over here."

Flynn turned in time to see Ram look up, the question in his tired eyes cycling over to understanding and something Flynn didn't recognize. "Yeah," said the little program softly. "Sure." And he scooted over, ducking under the arm Tron stretched out to loop him in, and curled up beside him with his head on Tron's chest.

Flynn blinked in surprise, trying not to think too hard about how weird it was to imagine straightlaced, stiffnecked Alan Bradley cuddling up to anyone (especially Lora). He didn't realize he was staring until Tron looked at him over Ram's helmet, his eyebrows quirking together in an expression so purely Bradley that Flynn had to choke down an impulse to laugh.

“What?” said Tron irritably.

Flynn shrugged. If Tron wanted a swing at him, he’d have to dislodge Ram again first, and the guy wasn’t completely heartless.

"Just.... I never pictured you as the huggy type."

"You were only in the cells for one night."

"Yeah," said Flynn, not really understanding. It had been pretty cramped, sure, way too small to stretch out properly, and there'd been Ram contorting himself into all these ridiculous positions trying to get comfortable, and Tron spending most of his time awake and staring at the wall--

"They had me there for thirty microcycles," said Tron, still in that same calm voice, the one Alan called up when feeling surrounded by idiots. "Ram? Two hundred."

Flynn swallowed. "Oh."

Ram's breathing had evened out, but his shoulders were still hunched a little, one hand curling on Tron's chest. Tron leaned back again, his expression not much different from the one he'd worn in the cells: patient, determined, enduring. But there was a peacefulness in it that hadn't been there before; the grinding captivity was gone. They didn't _have_ to sleep in different corners anymore. Didn't have to bear helpless witness to one another's pain.

And hadn't Alan said that Tron had been “almost ready to go” when Dillinger had locked him out?

To Flynn, who'd been starting to get an idea of how time passed in here, it was an uncomfortable revelation that Tron must have been held prisoner for most of his operational existence.

“‘n it was _lousy_ ,” mumbled Ram. Tron nodded, patting his shoulder, and agreed, “It was.”

“I bet it was,” Flynn sighed, mentally throwing in the towel. “Look, when I take out the MCP, I’ll give him a special whack just for you guys, all right?”

“You do that.” Tron’s eyes closed again, and after a while his breathing slowed too. Flynn watched them for a while, and then turned back toward the mouth of the cave and spent the rest of his vigil entertaining himself by listing all the one-liners he was going to use right before punching the MCP in the face. 

He bet it looked like Dillinger.  
_____


End file.
